Chapter 6: Better now
A/N: I originally planned this to be a little lighter, but after reading Dr. Dredd's "Moral Compass" Thanks for a couple good perspectives. I decided to let Carson be a little less sensitive. Yes, Kyte has a few issues. I'll try and let her clear up a couple here and in the next chapter.
Coffee…The smell of coffee woke me, something I'd been missing for too long. I rolled over to turn off the alarm, or at least tried to. I realized I wasn't at home and sat bolt upright. Not outside, in bed, warm, as the previous day's events washed over me.
"Sorry, said the same medic from the previous night. "Let me guess, you're one of those people who use their coffeemaker as an alarm clock?"
"Yep," I said as she handed me a mug of the steaming brew. I took a sip and savored the taste.
"I have something else," she said handing over some clothing. These might be a little better, after you've had a shower. We managed to salvage and wash a few things from your pack, but we figured you might want a fresh shirt and pants.
"Thanks," I said, " fingering the long sleeve black t-shirt and grey pants.
Wires were removed and the IV disconnected, but the needle itself wasn't removed. Instead plastic dressing went over that.
Dr. Beckett will probably want to run another course of antibiotics and fluids.
Let's just say that was one of the best showers in my life. Hot water, high water pressure, need I say more?
I was sitting in lotus position in a bed, nursing my coffee, and trying not to wolf down toast and egg substitutes. It's a universal constant, I think, hospital food is hospital food, but after what I'd eaten lately it wasn't too bad. I'd left my hair unbraided and I realized it was longer than I usually let it get. I should find someone to cut it, I thought, idly.
A marine walked in and Dr. Beckett met him in the doorway. They spoke briefly and he gestured in my direction.
"Feel like attending a meeting?" asked the sergeant. It wasn't exactly a request and I had a momentary flash of being sent to the principal's office. However, it would be nice to see some place outside the infirmary. We walked through a rapid succession of corridors in silence. Something nagged at the back of my mind, I felt like I knew the layout of this place, like I'd flipped through the blueprints at some point. Before I had time to ponder the significance of this further, we arrived at a large conference room, already filled with people, an apparent mix of military and scientists, a few I recognized from the previous day. The woman who had identified herself as Dr. Weir spoke, "Don't worry, this isn't an inquisition."
I allowed myself a brief smile. "I wasn't thinking of the Inquisition. I was thinking of my dissertation defense." All the PhD types laughed.
Dr. Weir smiled at this. "Have a seat. I hope you are feeling better?"
"I nodded in response to her question. "A shower, some sleep, and coffee definitely help. To quote Macbeth," Sleep doth knit the ravel'd sleeve of care,'" I smiled.
Col. Sheppard was sitting next to her and passed me a cup of coffee across the table, as he gave me a quick appraising once-over. The look was a one of pleasant surprise, I clean up well, and every boyfriend I've ever has rhapsodized about my reddish blonde hair – honey, pennies, grain fields, you get the picture. That's why I usually braided it, that and to keep it out of my face in the lab. I blushed slightly and started fiddling with the cuffs of my shirt. Introductions went around and tried to remember names and faces.
"I'm Col. Caldwell, " spoke the tall, bald man I'd seen yesterday, ending any minor conversations. "Do you mind answering a few questions?"
"No sir," I said, meeting his eyes. Somehow I got the idea this meeting was Dr. Weir's idea, but he'd be the one running it, and not answering any questions would only lead to trouble.
"You're originally from New Edinburgh, New York?"
"Yes, it's a little company mining town. Blink and you'll miss it, but it's a place to come from. I even worked for the company part-time. Not with the excavation, but I'd help my dad prepare and set the charges. I'm very good with explosives, you have to be, when lives depend on your decisions."
A few of the military types nodded with either approval or disapproval of this skill set.
Dr. McKay and Dr. Zalenka appeared to exchange conspiratorial glances.
Dr. Weir sighed inwardly. The two would probably be recruiting her as a new ally in their pranks against Dr. Kavanagh.
"How'd you get out to California?" continued Caldwell.
"I got a cross-country scholarship to Stanford. I was all-conference and all-state in high school, schools took notice. Stanford was the best," I answered with a shrug, remembering my parents' protests, their hope I'd stay closer to home.
"Why cross-country?" Caldwell persisted.
"I had four older brothers to keep up with, so running was natural. I realized that if I wanted to leave home, I had to stand out, colleges don't notice smart kids in little schools, besides they don't tease smart kids if they're jocks," I answered a little more angrily than I wanted, almost daring him to open some old wounds. There was more, but I didn't feel like sharing. Being smart in a small town is lonely, especially when you realize at 12 that there's a world out there you need to see, but are torn between desire and family. Cross-country is the perfect sport for the lonely.
Dr Weir seemed to sense something and decided to interject. "Dr. Beckett showed me your test results. You have the Ancient gene." I nodded. She continued, "A few other people here, like Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Beckett also have the gene, and others like Dr. McKay carry a genetically engineered version that Dr. Beckett developed.
"Nice. I mean to genetically engineer a human gene, and I assume get it to work…did you have to worry about promoters, what'd you use for an insertion sequence," I interrupted as I saw Dr. Beckett enter the room, curiosity getting the better me.
Sheppard had a slightly amused, "great, another geek look," and shot Beckett a "you can talk shop after I leave," look.
Dr Beckett picked up, "The odd thing lass, is you have an extra sequence, like extra computer code for a program. We don't have a clue what this sequence is for, but we're all very curious. We'd like to find out what you can do."
For a few moments, panic washed over me. Part of me wanted to scream, part of me wanted to flee, as images of blood and lab tests came to the surface, Dr. Lowell calmly explaining things as I was held down…. The decision to flee won.
'I will not be your guinea pig," I yelled, suddenly on my feet, fighting past shocked marines. I just wanted to get out here and hide for a little while. "What the hell did you get yourself into, Kyte Randall. Out of the frying pan and into the fire?" I thought as headed to the most isolated part of the city I could remember.
"That went rather well, didn't it," asked Col Caldwell.
A/N 2: I wasn't sure what Kyte could do, but thanks to William Gibson's Count Zero for a little inspiration.